For Bean, partially because she suggested it but mostly because she deserves all the love and good in the world.
It's stupid that the books are the part that bothers her the most. It's just letters strung together on a computer screen, ink on a page, but she's always thought it was just theirs. The thing they have that's the most special. She knows that the vast majority of his characters are based on people he knows so she had entertained the idea that Clara was a real person.
She just didn't think that so much of the character's…inspiration was based on real life events. Because Nikki and Rook have but they haven't so she thought maybe…
It hits her in the gut, this feeling of being not as special as she thought she was to him. It twines through her, the putrid doubt pushing out the hard won hope she's cultivated since that sunny late summer day on the swings. She wants to laugh or cry or both and then her insecurities fall out of her mouth before she can stop them.
"So, you slept with her."
Yeah, he slept with her. At the time it was exciting. She was a spy. They were saving the world by day and falling into bed at night. Okay, so he wasn't exactly saving the world but when he wrote it, he could pretend to be Derrick and it was like living a dream.
Because the reality wasn't that dreamy. She was hot, sure, but she was cold and distant and any move he made to deepen the relationship was rebuffed, flowers refused, proper dates forgone for takeout and athletic bouts of emotionless sex. He didn't even notice that she was putting him off, just thought that she was too busy with her spy stuff and that one day everything would calm down and they could have a proper relationship.
He can pinpoint the end of his time with Sophia as the beginning of his playboy, devil may care attitude. At least she helped him sell books.
But she wasn't a muse. Beckett's the only person he has ever used that word with. She's the only one that it's true about.
"I just wanted to see how big the club was, that's all." She strides out of the elevator, doesn't skip a beat as she calls out "Hey guys, what do you got?" to Ryan and Esposito as if nothing just happened.
Oh hell no, she does not get to just throw that out there and walk away. "Okay, whoa whoa whoa. First off, there is no club." He pauses because really, that's all there is. No club, just her.
He wraps a hand around her bicep and pulls her down the nearest hallway, fleetingly noting that she puts up very little resistance. He wrenches open a door and ushers her in ahead of him, closes the door behind them and flicks the lock. Not that he's been scoping out this supply closet since his second week here. Not that he noticed how well placed it is, off the main flow of traffic of the floor, close to the elevator for a quick getaway, not to mention the fact that the door has a deadbolt.
But he didn't think he'd be using this room to make a point.
There's just enough light filtering through the frosted glass on the door to cast shadows across her creased forehead, flash in her angry, confused eyes. "What the hell, Castle?"
"There's no club, Kate. I told you yesterday that it's not like how it is with us."
She drops the anger, relaxes her shoulders. "Okay, good to know." And then she moves to leave the room.
But he can see what just happened; she put on a mask, is hiding the pain that he knows she feels. Because he feels it too, feels the strain that Sophia is putting on them. They've been doing so well, smiles and gentle touches and phone calls for no reason other than hearing the other's voice and he can't lose that, can't lose her.
He steps into her path while winding an arm around her waist to pull her flush against him. Her hands fly up to his shoulders as she startles in his arms, the sudden closeness of her overwhelming his senses. Her face is so close that only her eyes fill his frame of vision, her pupils crowding the moss of her irises in the low light. Her breath comes in quick pants across his lips, the rise and fall of her chest brushing against his.
He takes a moment to relish the feeling of her in his arms, how well the dips and valleys of their bodies slot together. He raises a hand to brush the hair back from her face, settle his palm along her jaw and revels in the flutter of her eyelashes at his touch.
"I don't think you heard me," he says, his voice low and rough from constrained lust, "it wasn't how it is with you and me."
She takes in a long, shaking breath and opens her mouth to say something, closes it again, and then her arms are wrapping around his neck and she's kissing him. Kissing him for real, not under some desperate ruse to save their friends but actually, for real kissing him. The velvet warmth of her mouth is pressed to his and it takes him a moment to realize this is actually happening.
She may be the woman of his dreams but she is all reality.
He tightens his arms around her and opens his mouth against hers, an appreciative moan escaping her throat as she slicks her tongue against his, her action wiping his brain of everything but the repetitive chant of her name.
And then she's gone, heat and softness replaced with a cold chill. He shivers as he opens his eyes, finds hers fixed on him, anger glittering in them again.
"Really? That's not how it was with you two?"
Now he's furious. Because that's all that he and Sophia were and can't she see that they're so much more?
She fully extracts herself from his arms and stalks to the door. She's reaching for the deadbolt switch when his hand closes over hers and he roughly twists her to face him.
"No Kate, it wasn't. We didn't have years of history," he runs a hand up her arm, "we didn't have tragedies that we overcame together," his other hand settles between her breasts where he tried to stop her from bleeding out and leaving him, "we didn't have a connection, we didn't have-"
He stops himself, the word trapped in his throat.
She takes in a gasping breath and he uses the movement of her ribcage under his hand to wash away the memory. She's alive. She's here. Whatever they are, she's still here. Her fingertips skim across his cheek causing his eyes startle up to her hers. The anger has dissipated, replaced with a determination that he doesn't understand.
"Love." She breathes it so softly, he wonders if he imagined it. "You didn't love her," she whispers. "Not like you love me." She holds his eyes, lets him see that she knows.
She knows. She knows. Maybe he should be mad that she didn't admit it sooner but right now, he just can't be. He loves her and she knows that he loves her and she's right here, right with him.
He's kept the depth of his affection for her in control, only letting little bits leak out in the occasional smile, knows that he's let it show in his tone of voice at least a dozen times. But now, with no reason to restrain it, he doesn't and swoops in to kiss her hard, his arms banding across her back to hold her tight. He feels a moan vibrate through her as she hooks her leg around his, her calf pressed firmly into the back of his thigh.
She has too many layers on, the bulky jacket she's wearing not allowing him to get his hands on her skin and he pushes it from her shoulders. She takes the hint and allows it to drop to the floor, her hands coming up to slide under his jacket and plaid shirt that he never bothered to button. She trails her hands behind the material, fingertips tripping down his arms. Her touch is light, barely grazing his skin but there is fire in its wake. His breaths are short and shallow, the nearness of Kate overwhelming and he pushes her against the door. He can play it off as crowding into her to be closer but he needs the stability right now, isn't at all sure that he can hold himself up without help. With shaking fingers, he slides a hand under the hem of her shirt until the silken skin of her abdomen can be found. She shudders when he touches her, her hips jerking, and with her leg hiked over his like it is, the move causes her to grind into him. The contact makes him groan, low and loud, the sound surely passing through the thin glass they're pressed up against.
They need to move further into this room should this activity continue and he hopes with everything he has that it does. She starts nudging him backwards, apparently of the same thought, and he keeps a hand on the skin of her waist as he pulls her with him. He startles when her hands slide under his t-shirt, her palms brushing his stomach, fingers dancing across his chest and then she raises the shirt over his head, tosses it across the room. She grins wickedly at him, raises a hand to run through his disheveled hair and pushes up on the balls of her feet to capture his lips in hers. He spins her back toward the wall, walks her the few steps to it and presses a leg high between hers. She settles against him, the heat of her center scorching even through their pants. He divests her of her shirt to discover the other reason that she was wearing that bulky jacket; she's been without a bra since they climbed out of the river. Her nipples are peaked and he rubs his thumbs over them, her breath catching on a moan. He lays his lips to her neck, sucks and kisses his way down to her collarbone.
She clutches at his shoulders. "Tell me again," she breathes into his ear.
He halts his actions, pulls back slowly to catch her eyes. "Kate?" He likes to think he knows what she's asking but is scared to be wrong.
Her eyes dip down for a long moment before rising to meet him. "Tell me again."
He captures her face in his hands, his forehead falling heavily to hers. Her request has made him weak, his tongue thick and unmoving. It's there in the back of his throat, begging to be free. He swallows hard, his blood rushing loud in his ears and he doesn't hear himself as he releases the words.
"I love you, Kate." He kisses her, gentle, just a warm press of his mouth to hers. "I love you," he murmurs against her lips.
She takes in a shaking breath, releases something that sounds like the beginning of a sob but it's muffled as she kisses him. Her kiss is deep and passionate and hot. She kisses him with longing and promise, like he is oxygen and sustenance and the only thing she's ever needed. It ignites a spark that shoots fire through his veins; their skin is flame on flame and he is delirious from the heat being generated between them.
Her hands fall the waist band of his jeans, popping the button and lowering the zipper, sliding her hand inside his boxers to palm the hard length of him. His mouth pops from hers with a gasp at the sensation of her fingers wrapped around him. He presses his lips together hard enough to blanch the color from them and the moan that escapes his throat remains trapped in the cave of his mouth. And then she slides her hand up and back down and he needs her pants to come off right damn now.
He undoes her jeans and pushes them and her underwear down her hips, moving away to take off his own pants as she bats his hands away. They kick them off and stand before each other naked for the first time. In a storage closet. At the precinct. It's certainly not how he thought their first time would happen but she knows that he loves her and it's made her completely hot for him.
And god, does he ever love her.
He reaches for her, his hands spanning her waist and she takes his face in her hands as he kisses her, pours all his love in to the movement of his mouth, the slide of his tongue. She raises a leg to hook it at his hip, his hand wrapping around her thigh to anchor her there she hops up on her other leg so that both are wrapped around him. He leverages her against the wall and slides a hand between her legs to run his finger through her slick folds. She gasps against his neck as he slides a finger inside her, finds her drenched and ready for him. He withdraws from her to take himself in his hand, teasing his tip at her entrance.
"Kate, look at me."
She lifts her head to catch his eyes and they both hold their breath as she sinks over him, taking him fully inside. He kisses her, eyes open, and her hands rise to cup the back of his skull, her fingers gently shot through his hair.
And then he moves, just an experimental roll of his hips, grinning against her mouth as her eyes widen. She takes deep from his lips, sucking his bottom one between her teeth to sink them into the tender flesh, releasing it to grin at him when he groans.
Enough waiting. He pumps into her, in, out, in, out, in a relentless rhythm, her heels anchored against his ass, the press of her there encouraging him on. He plants his hands on the wall beside her; he'd rather have them on breasts, her waist, the curve of her ass but he needs the stability right now, wills his watery knees to not give out on him. She is ending him with every glide he makes inside her, every keening moan, every press of her fingers on his skin.
She's whispering in his ear, things he mistakes for encouragement until he actually catches the words. "I'm sorry. I know it's just me. I'm sorry." His hips slow to a lazy roll so he can hear her but she stops, breathes hard, the wash of her breath leaving behind goosebumps. He turns his head to place an open mouthed kiss against her neck and it's as though the touch releases the last of what she was going to say. "I love you, too."
He abruptly stills, barely hears her whine of protest. His forehead drops heavy to the curve of her neck as her words ring in his head.
"Kate." Her name is a benediction, a thanksgiving, a relief. Emotion surges through him, a rough sob breaking free of his chest before he can stop it.
"Shhhhh, Castle, please," she pleads into his ear, her hands in his hair again. "I'm so sorry. I know. I love you."
Again. She just said it again. His body snaps taught, his lips branding her skin as he kisses his way up to her mouth to capture her lips in a bruising, claiming kiss. His hips come alive, his thrusts purposeful and intense. She pulls out of the kiss on a sharp gasp and he opens his eyes to find hers already on him, their connection a live wire between them. Her breath stutters on an inhale, her legs clamping around his waist, her body shuddering as she climaxes. She exhales his name on a quiet sob and he swallows the rest of her cries with his mouth fused to hers as she takes him over the edge with her.
Her legs unlock and she slides them to the floor; he immediately misses the feel of her so thoroughly wrapped around him. Almost as if she can sense it, her arms snake around his rib cage to pull him against her, skin to skin. Her head slots perfectly under his chin and he drops a kiss to the crown of her head, only just barely believing that this moment is happening. A quiet laugh bubbles out of her, just a disbelieving chuckle that has him lowering his head to nuzzle into her hair.
"I know, Kate. Me too," he mutters into her ear, the low timbre of his voice running a shiver through her body.
They escape out the elevator, Castle keeping watch on when the door opens and Kate keeping an eye on the bullpen to make sure they're not noticed. They dart in the car with an office administrator whose name Beckett can't remember to save her life, the woman looking at them oddly. They can't really blame her; their more casual than usual clothes are rumpled, their hair is a mess(hers is a lost cause at this point) and they ran into the elevator like they were looking for a place to hide.
Which they, of course, were.
They're so busy trying to look casual in front of the car's other occupant that they don't notice Ryan backhand Esposito in the arm and point in their direction.
"Yo!" Espo calls out as the doors begin to slide closed. "What the hell?"
"Sorry, we'll be back!" Beckett answers through the rapidly decreasing space.
"We will?" Castle asks as the elevator starts it descent down.
He's interrupted by the elevator dinging just one floor lower, the administrator swooping down to collect the banker's box at her feet before leaving them alone. Blissfully alone.
Kate reaches up to hook a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down into a quick, searing kiss. "Do you want to go back?"
"No, no, I'm good with just going home," he assures her.
She grins at that. "We'll just tell them we got pulled away on secret mission stuff again."
"But we're off that case."
She shakes her head at him, mock disappointment etched in the lines of her face. "They don't know that."
He laughs at that, gathering her into his arms. "You see, this, this is why I love you."
She ducks her head, her forehead falling against his chest for a moment before raising her face to his. Her eyes are soft and full of affection. "I love you, too."
I'd love to know what you think.